Second Chances
by simplyshelbs16
Summary: Post TFP. Sherlock and Molly acknowledge their mutual feelings, but he feels undeserving. So, Molly decides to help him forgive himself for his past mistakes by recreating specific moments to give him a do-over.
1. A Caffeinated Prologue

Molly was wracking her brain to find a way to help Sherlock. Ever since the discussion of the phone call, they had openly acknowledged that they both loved one another, but Sherlock wouldn't allow her to give him any affection. When she had asked him about it, he had explained that it was because he felt undeserving of her kisses and soft touch. Of course, she disagreed, pointing out that he had made up for his past mistakes and she had forgiven him long ago, but he was having none of it simply because he had never forgiven himself. But then, an idea came to mind...

* * *

"Molly may I examine this tissue sample from Mr. Lewis?" Sherlock inquired whilst they were in the morgue.

"Of course," she smiled. "Uh, Sherlock?"

"Hm?"

"I was wondering…would you like to have coffee?" Molly asked. The moment was familiar, as it was a callback to the first time she had asked him out.

"Yes I—I would like that very much, Molly," he replied, a small smile gracing his lips. They agreed to go to the little café a couple blocks down on her break. Sherlock had rather animatedly told her about his findings from studying the tissue sample and she was enjoying his excited babble. In all truthfulness, Molly had always found his experiments quite interesting, but she could only focus on how happy he looked.

"If you think about it, it all makes sense, really," he concluded.

"Mhmm," she nodded in agreeance.

"Molly?" he asked with concern.

"What?"

"You seem…distracted," Sherlock pointed out.

"I'm not," she insisted. "You just look so happy."

"Well, I feel happy," he told her. "You've no idea how much I've wanted to have a second chance at this coffee date with you." That told her all she needed to know. Molly planned to give him a second chance for every moment he felt he had wronged her.


	2. Fancy Some Chips?

**Where are you? –SH**

 **I'm having tea with Mr. Shilcott. –MH**

 **You remember him right? –MH**

 **Yes. The one who liked trains. –SH**

 **Meet me downstairs in the stairwell? MH**

 **I'll be there in five. –SH**

* * *

Sherlock had nearly gone into buffering mode as he saw Molly descend the stairs. She was wearing the exact same outfit she wore the last time they were here together; the moment he realized she had been engaged. No, Sherlock did not wrong her at all on that day, but Molly knew there was some regret on both of their parts for not voicing their sentiments fully.

"Molly," he spoke in a questioning tone. "What exactly are you doing?"

"I knew you'd notice," she admitted. "Just, hear me out." Sherlock waited for her to explain more. "I thought that maybe if I recreated moments between us that held regrets for you, it would help you forgive yourself." His heart felt it may burst at how much love it held for her; at how much she so obviously loved him.

"But why?" he asked.

"All I have ever wanted was for you to be happy, Sherlock," she said softly. "Whether I was a part of that happiness or not, that's all I ever wanted for you. And I feel so very lucky that you love me the way that I love you. I've known how you felt since the last time we stood here. You conveyed that you hoped I'd be happy even though you weren't the one I was going home to." She took his hands in hers and reached up on her tippy toes to press a kiss to his cheek. "Ask me."

"Fancy some chips?"

"Yes," she answered with a smile. "The fish shop on Marylebone road?"

"Of course," he replied.

* * *

"Well, I suppose he won't be getting ahead in life," Molly laughed. Sherlock had just finished telling her of a homicide from a beheading.

"Honestly, Molly, that was terrible," he told her but couldn't help but laugh with her. She watched his eyes crinkle at the corners, thinking there had never been a more beautiful sight.

"Oh, was it not humerus enough for you?" she asked, still laughing.

"You're incorrigible," he said, popping a chip in his mouth. He was now watching Molly draw something on her napkin. She slid it over to him once finished and he chuckled at it. Molly had drawn a skull above a pair of bony feet and captioned it with 'head over heels.' "I've always loved your humour."

"Really? What happened to "don't make jokes, Molly?"" she questioned.

"I could have worded that better, I suppose," Sherlock admitted. "What I meant by that was though I love your jokes, other do not. They do not understand you the way I do, nor do they understand me the way you do."

"God, we're both hopeless in social situations," Molly pointed out.

"Yes, I suppose we are," he agreed.

* * *

"Thank you, Molly Hooper." Sherlock stood with her outside of her flat after their date.

"For what?" she asked.

"Everything," he answered. "For giving me a second go at crucial moments between us. It is helping."

"I'm glad," Molly told him. Sherlock pressed a soft kiss to the corner of her lips; so close, but he wasn't quite ready yet.

"I can't wait to see what you have planned next," he smiled. As she watched him walk away, Molly's heart fluttered. She would make sure that Sherlock received every second chance she could think of.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Any guesses on the next one?


	3. Domestic Bliss

Molly was in the lab recording data from the specimen she was studying when Sherlock burst through the doors.

"Sherlock, hey, I think you might—" she stopped short when she saw the t-shirt, sweatpants and hoodie clad man before her. "Oh God, please tell me you aren't—"

"High? No. But this is what I wore when you were most disappointed in me," he explained. "I know these recreated moments were your idea, but I wanted to at least take this one into my own hands."

"Okay, I'm listening," she told him. Sherlock reached across the lab table and placed his hand atop hers.

"This is my way of telling you that I've been clean since the Culverton case, which is another instance where I hurt you terribly because I was hurting myself," he elaborated. Tears began to well up in her eyes from the memory of how close to death he came. "It is also my way of telling you that I plan to return to a rehabilitation center. I'm not being forced into it this time. I am choosing to get better because I want to; not only for myself, but for those I care about too."

"Sherlock," Molly's voice broke. "I'm so proud of you. God, look at you. I'll be there for you every step of the way."

"Thank you, Molly," he smiled. "That means a lot to me." Sherlock lifted her hand to his lips, kissing the back of it. "I'm so sorry I put you through that entire trauma. I'm sorry that I harmed myself in horrible ways."

"It's all over now," she said, a tear falling down her cheek. Sherlock moved to stand beside her and enveloped her in a comforting embrace, his fingers brushing through her ponytail.

"Yes, darling, I promise you that it is," he spoke softly. "I even allowed Greg and Anderson to search my flat."

"Wow," she laughed. "I must be dreaming."

"Nope," he said, popping the 'p.' They held on to one another a few moments longer, as it was tough topic to approach. Before she realized what was happening, Sherlock pressed his lips to hers, finally. He kissed her slowly, wanting to savor the taste of her lips. Molly allowed him to control the kiss, as she didn't want to push too far, but Sherlock had other plans. His tongue met with hers and he took his time running it across her lips and meeting with her once more.

"I love you," Sherlock whispered.

"I love you too," she replied. Things would only get better from here, of that, Molly was certain.

* * *

Two months passed, and Sherlock had been doing quite well with rehabilitation. He would often stay with Molly on the weekends unless there was a case to solved. This was one of those weekends, and when he arrived, he was surprised to see Molly cooking in the kitchen. She baked often, but he had never once seen her cook anything. They would usually have takeaway on these weekends together.

"Smells good," he told her, wrapping his arms around her waist. "What's the occasion?"

"No occasion," she replied. "I just thought a home-cooked meal would be nice for a change."

"Mm," he sounded as he pressed his lips to her neck.

"As nice as that is, I need you to let go so I can get into the oven," Molly told him. He obliged and began to set the table. She brought out the roast chicken along with green beans and mashed potatoes.

"This looks delicious," he smiled. "You didn't have to do all of this, though."

"I know. I just wanted to cook something for us this time," she explained. "Eat as much as you want, I made more than enough."

"Trying to feed me up already?" he chuckled.

"Silly bugger," she remarked, rolling her eyes. Sherlock noticed that Molly had gained three pounds, which reminded him of an earlier interaction between them. He was trying to give her a compliment, but it was rude in the way he had voiced it. Of course, he knew that he too had gained a couple of pounds recently.

"You know, domestic bliss does truly suit you, Molly," Sherlock told her. She was practically holding her breath at that remark. "It suits me too." He watched as she exhaled softly.

"It does," she agreed, eating a scoop of potatoes.

* * *

After dinner, they cuddled up together on the sofa whilst watching Doctor Who, as was tradition. Sherlock would never admit to anyone else that Molly got him interested in such a program, but he enjoyed it. He was lying on the sofa beside her, with her head on his chest. His fingers traced her skin where her tank top rose up.

Sherlock began to wonder why in the world he ever felt repulsed at the idea of sharing his life with someone romantically. He couldn't imagine his life without Molly and he never wanted to find out. There were still a few things he felt he needed to make up for, but right now, he was perfectly happy with having his honeybee in his arms.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Sherlock's showing some growth on his part by wanting to help recreate these moments with her. Thoughts?


	4. Oh, What a Night

She was working the night shift tonight so when Molly entered the canteen, she was surprised when Sherlock grabbed her hand and pulled her in for a kiss. When they broke away, she noticed takeaway from Angelo's at the table he had been sitting at.

"What's all this for?" she asked.

"Making up for my manipulative ways those years ago," he replied. "I flirted to get what I wanted. I shouldn't have used you like that, but I must admit there was still truth behind my words. You looked very pretty that day with your hair up. Not that you don't look pretty all the time, because you do."

"Well, thank you," she blushed. "But you didn't have to do all this. I appreciate it, though. Everything smells so good." Molly seated herself across from him.

"Of course I did, Molly," he insisted. "It was wrong of me to use your feelings for me to get what I wanted. I'm so sorry I led you on."

"I forgive you, bumblebee," she smiled. "And technically you didn't lead me on…according to you, you've always had feelings for me."

"Alright, if you want to bring technicality into it," he chuckled. He took her free hand across the table and rubbed his thumb over the back of it soothingly. Molly took a bite of her fettucine alfredo and swallowed hard when Sherlock lifted her hand, pressing his lips to it. It was such an intimate gesture though it was a simple, innocent kiss.

"You're really growing, you know that? Emotionally, I mean," Molly pointed out.

"I realize that, yes," he nodded. "I did have your guidance through the years as well as John and Mary's."

"Still, I'm very proud of you, Sherlock," she told him.

"Thank you, Molly," Sherlock smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. With every recreated moment, he felt an inner peace knowing that he had a chance to make up for his mistakes. He never wanted to be the cause of Molly's pain ever again. Her smiles made him smile and when she cried, he either wanted to cry with her or deduce the person that hurt her to tears. Overall, Sherlock was the happiest he'd been since before Eurus went rogue.

* * *

 **Meet me at The Packet at 7 tonight. –MH xxx**

 **Dress casually if convenient. If not convenient, dress casually anyways. –MH xxx**

Sherlock chuckled at that but had to admit he had no idea of Molly's intentions with this. He hardly ever went to pubs, unless there was a murder. Or a bachelor party, but that had proven to not be successful. He stepped into the establishment, searching for her. Everyone was loud and talkative but did not overpower the sound of the music playing throughout the room. He spotted Molly at the bar drinking water. She wore a pale yellow dress that went to her knees with a lightly faded denim jacket over top. Her hair was up in a messy bun—a style he secretly loved on her—with a few tendrils of hair framing her face.

"You look beautiful," Sherlock told her with a kiss to her cheek.

"Hey you," she smiled brightly, "I was beginning to think you wouldn't show." Molly took in the rare sight of him wearing a pair of dark wash jeans and his aubergine dress shirt. He looked quite handsome in casual wear.

"I would never stand you up, honeybee," he replied.

"Sit," she gestured to the stool beside her. "Have a drink with me? Just one?"

"Alright," he agreed, still not quite sure where this was going. When Molly finished her drink, she really took in the sight of Sherlock seemingly happy in such a public place. He was normally uncomfortable, but with Molly by his side, he felt fine to be honest.

"I've got a surprise for you," she sang happily. Sherlock furrowed his brows in confusion until a familiar song began playing.

 _Oh, what a night. Late December back in '63._

"Care to dance, Mister Holmes?" Molly asked, extending her arm to him. He said nothing but got up from his seat and took her in his arms. She met his every step, leading him to deduce that she has had plenty of experience in dancing. _What a lady, what a night, indeed_ , he thought to himself. Sherlock spun her around and brought her back in with her back against his chest, lacing his fingers with the hand that was not settled over his arm around her waist, swaying a bit. Molly felt him press a chaste kiss to her neck before spinning her out again. She was facing him now as she came back to him and followed every step.

"I have always wanted to dance with you," Sherlock admitted. "Especially at John and Mary's wedding. It should have been us there together."

"It should have," she agreed. "I still regret not going after you when I noticed you leave."

"You noticed?" he asked. Molly nodded. "You really do see me."

"Always," she replied. Sherlock dipped her at the end of the song and snogged her in front of absolutely everyone, including—

"Bloody hell, I never thought I'd see the day," Greg mused, taking a sip of his beer. "Anderson won't let me live it down now." Molly stifled a laugh.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Sherlock asked.

"Nothing, mate, just happy for you," Greg assured him. "For both of you. Cheers!" As he walked away, Molly buried her head against Sherlock's chest, obviously laughing.

"I don't understand what Anderson has to do with it," Sherlock continued.

"Come on," Molly laughed, "I'll tell you about it on the cab ride home." She took his hand and lead him out into the street. When they slid into the cab together, Sherlock was surprised when she told the driver to take them to 221B Baker Street.

"I thought you were headed home?" he questioned.

"Silly man, you are my home," she answered. Those words went through his mind later that night when he had himself wrapped around Molly as she slept. He loved being as close to her as humanly possible. Looking at the beautiful woman in his arms, he smiled to himself, realizing that she was his home too.


	5. Always You

Molly nearly jumped out of her skin as she shut the lights down in the lab and headed for the door. Sherlock was waiting for her there not unlike the time he asked her for help in faking his death.

"Molly, when I said I needed you, I meant it in every way," he told her when she approached him. "I was too much of a coward to tell you how I felt though I knew there was a chance I wouldn't make it out alive. I had the chance to tell you after the fact, when I stayed with you for a week, but I couldn't. And for that, I am sorry."

"Sherlock," she spoke softly, caressing his face. "What do you need?"

"You…always you," he replied, leaning in to her. Molly met him with a tender kiss, her arms thrown around his neck and his hands at her waist. "Should've snogged you in the locker room too." He heard her giggle at that.

"That would have been most welcome and it could've saved me from those long dreadful months with Tom," she told him.

"In that case, I am very sorry I didn't break up your engagement earlier," Sherlock smirked.

"Silly man," Molly smiled. "How about a night of takeaway and a movie?"

"I would enjoy that immensely," he agreed.

* * *

Sherlock had Molly pick the movie they'd watch. He suggested she put in one of her favourites, whatever it may be. She had argued that he may not enjoy what she picked because it was a romance but he waved her worries away, especially now that he was quite into it. He could easily tell this current scene was a favourite of Molly's.

 _How do you call your loverboy?_

"Come here, loverboy," Molly smirked at him, her lips pressing to his.

 _And if he doesn't answer?_

Sherlock trailed his lips down to her neck.

"Oh, loverboy," Molly gasped, still quoting the song.

 _And if he still doesn't answer?_ Molly pushed him away gently and began to sing. Sherlock was enjoying her enthusiasm.

"I simply say, baby, oh baby, my sweet baby, you're the one," she sang, her hands caressing his face. They both burst out laughing, adding kisses to the mix. Oh yes, this was definitely one of Sherlock's favourite movies now.

He soon had her up off of the sofa and they danced in the sitting room, having fun together. Without warning, Sherlock had lifted her into his arms, her feet rising off of the floor, and he spun her around. Her laughter filled the room and he couldn't help but smile so much, his cheeks ached.

"I love you, Molly Hooper," he told her softly, as they both settled back onto the sofa. He had his arm around her whilst her head was on his shoulder.

"And I love you, Sherlock Holmes," she replied, lifting her head to nuzzle her nose against his.

 _Only one more memory to make better for her_ , he thought. This was going to take some work.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** The movie was Dirty Dancing, in case someone didn't pick up on it. Only 1 more chapter left...and y'all know what that means...CHRISTMAS!


	6. Last Christmas

Sherlock and Molly were in a wonderful place in their relationship. They had yet to consummate it though months have passed. Both of them were silently aware of the upcoming holiday, knowing that this last memory might even be a little painful to be redone. But Sherlock was determined as he spent the entirety of November planning everything out. Molly was told by him to relax and he'd take care of it all. He only asked her to wear that same dress, but truthfully, she wasn't sure she could bring herself to do it.

Christmas Eve came around and 221B was decorated exactly the way it was five years ago. There were fairy lights, a small tree, and Christmas songs sung by crooners filling the room on a record player. The crackling fire gave off a warm glow for the atmosphere. One difference, however, was the mistletoe hanging above the doorway into the flat. Everyone was here, and as soon as he noticed Molly stepping out of the cab from his window, he waited by the door.

"Merry Christmas, Molly Hooper," he greeted her, smiling beautifully. Sherlock leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. It was chaste, but so very tender that it left her wanting—no, needing—more. He took her coat and hung it up, happy to see she heeded his request and wore that very same holiday dress, complete with the bow in her loosely curled hair.

"Merry Christmas, Sherlock," she returned happily. When he moved aside, her jaw nearly dropped. All of the members of their little makeshift family were there; John, Mary, Rosie, Greg, Mrs. Hudson, Mycroft, Anthea, Meena, as well as both of his parents. "Your family's here?"

"Surprised?" he asked.

"Very," she answered.

"I still wish he'd wear the antlers," Mrs. Hudson added.

"I won't go that far," Sherlock remarked. Molly couldn't help but giggle at the exchange. "Molly, I would like for you to meet my parents."

"Nice to meet you," Molly smiled, extending her hand towards them.

"Oh, pish posh, I'm a hugger," Mrs. Holmes told her, pulling her in.

"I don't bite, I promise," Mr. Holmes assured her, giving her a hug. "You've made our son very happy."

"Oh, yes, you most definitely have," Mrs. Holmes agreed. "You are all he could talk about when we saw him last month. It was Sherlock's turn to blush, but he was also happy that Molly now had a sense of how much he loved her. After pressing a kiss to her temple, he picked up his violin and played along with the tune sounding from the record player.

"Thought you might want one," Mary suddenly spoke up, handing her a glass of red wine.

"Thank you," Molly replied.

"Sherlock worked really hard to put all of this together," Mary continued. "I remember when he first asked for help from me and John. We were shocked, to say the least." Though the end result of Sherlock's hard work was right in front of her eyes, Molly was still in disbelief that this was happening.

* * *

The next two hours were spent chatting with everyone and even receiving an offer to dance from Sherlock when her favourite Christmas song began to play. There was laughter and reminiscing old memories. Mummy, much to Sherlock's chagrin, told stories of past Christmases from his childhood. His disapproval disappeared when he saw how much Molly was enjoying it.

"I remember the one year, he had asked for a pirate ship," Mr. Holmes added. "Obviously, it was an impossible request, but Mycroft had built a make shift one with cardboard boxes."

"That was you?" Sherlock asked his brother. When he was a child, he had believed it was Saint Nick himself, but later on assumed it was his parents.

"Guilty," Mycroft replied with a sliver of a smile. Anthea glanced up at him with adoration.

"It's getting to be Rosie's bedtime it seems," Molly remarked. She had been holding her goddaughter for the last twenty minutes who was now fluttering her little eyelashes, fighting to stay awake. "Let Sherlock and I give her the gift we bought for her before you leave." Rosie was handed off to Mary, John by her side. Sherlock picked up a gift bag from beneath the little Christmas tree behind his chair.

"Let's see what Uncle Sherlock and Aunt Molly got you," John told his daughter, gently taking her hand and reaching into the bag. What came out of it made everyone laugh, including the givers of the gift. It was a small teddy bear with a deerstalker on its head. Rosie took to it immediately, hugging it to her chest with a curious smile.

"Thanks you two," Mary told them. "We had a wonderful time!" She and John left with Rosie and it wasn't long before the flat slowly emptied. The last to leave were Mycroft, Anthea and the Holmes parents.

"Sherlock, this was so lovely, thank you," Molly told him once they were alone.

"It's not over yet, Miss Hooper," he smirked.

"Oh?"

"Come with me," he told her, taking her hand and leading her to his bedroom. "Sit right there." Molly did as she was told and sat at the edge of his bed whilst he searched for something in the top drawer of his dresser. She noticed him take out two wrapped gifts, one being the gift she gave him five years ago. "First off, this is for you."

"You didn't have to get me anything," Molly said, taking the small gift in her hands.

"I know but I wanted to," Sherlock told her. He watched as she unwrapped the gift, revealing a slim velvet box. She lifted the lid to find a gorgeous anatomical heart cameo necklace. Tears welled up in her eyes at the sight of it. "You will always have my heart, darling." He whispered this in her ear, taking the necklace out and clasping it around her neck, pressing a kiss against her pulse point.

"Thank you," her voice broke. "Sherlock, it's beautiful." Her eyes glanced down at the parcel in his hand. "You never opened it, did you?"

"No, I didn't," he admitted. "I was not worthy of your kindness then." He handed her the gift and Molly knew what he was asking her to do.

"Merry Christmas, Sherlock," she smiled brightly, handing him the gift.

"Thank you, Molly," he smiled back. Sherlock carefully slid off the ribbon and lifted the lid of the box. Inside was what looked to be a journal with a skull on the cover, tied closed with a ribbon. He simply stared at it for a few minutes before she spoke up.

"Well? Aren't you going to look inside?" she asked, a small laugh escaping. He swiftly undid the ribbon's knot and opened it to the first page where a title was written.

"Mistletoe Mysteries?" Sherlock questioned.

"I do like to write stories as a hobby when I have the time, and I wrote a series of short mystery stories in that journal for you to solve. I accounted for your way of thinking and case elements that you consider close to a ten," Molly explained. "There's puzzles and riddles, as well as medically accurate forensic reports. They all take place around Christmastime. A bit morbid I suppose."

"You did all that for me?" he asked in disbelief. What did he do to ever deserve this woman who understood him like no one else. Hell, she even understood how his thought process worked.

"Of course," she replied. "The project started when I noticed how blue you were over not having any cases for a while, so the idea was born."

"I love you so much," he told her, lowering his voice, setting the gift aside. His lips pressed against hers fervently, their tongues meeting almost immediately. "Your lips are lovely." Molly smiled at his statement. He trailed his lips down her neck and slid the strap of her dress down to kiss her shoulder.

"Sherlock," she gasped as his mouth was now caressing the soft swell of her breasts, still covered by her dress.

"You're perfect," he assured her, continuing to pepper them with kisses. It wasn't long before they divested one another of their clothes. He felt her hands on either side of his face as she made him focus on her eyes.

"Are you sure you're ready for this next step?" Molly asked.

"Yes, I very much am. Are you?" he asked in return.

"Yes, my love," she answered, allowing him to lay her gently against his pillows.

* * *

As Molly hugged herself against him, her head resting over his heart and her left hand buried in his curls, gently running through them, Sherlock pressed a light kiss on the top of her head. She still wore the necklace, refusing to take it off whilst they had made love. He couldn't imagine a better Christmas than this one. Molly's eyes fluttered closed as she drifted off to sleep, her breathing slow and even.

"Merry Christmas, darling," he whispered, soon succumbing to sleep himself.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** If you read my stories on ao3, I have photos of the gifts at the end of this chapter on there. Also on ao3, under Phoebe_Snow's account, there is a companion piece to this chapter of the actual lovemaking scene. I collaborated with her on it.


End file.
